


Possession of a Workshop

by Gaqalesqua



Series: Fallout Kink Meme Fills [6]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Community: falloutkinkmeme, F/M, Fallout Kink Meme, Feels, Flirting, Fluff, Muscle Kink, Nora Pendleton, Smut, Strength Kink, more feels than i had planned, sturges being a sweetie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-02 07:54:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6558406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaqalesqua/pseuds/Gaqalesqua
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s a well-known fact that a mechanic in possession of a workshop must be in want of a pinup. </p><p>Sturges’ pinup just so happens to be flesh and blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The first thing he thought was that they were in a brand new fresh hell if they were hoping for a Vault Dweller to save them.

The second thing he thought was that those Vault suits did their wearers a serious favour around the rear.

She disappeared onto the roof as Preston poked his head out onto the balcony, and a minute later the resounding crash of Power Armour hitting concrete shook the air. Sturges sucked in a breath. She’d jumped off the damn roof. Sure as hell wasn’t going to hurt her, but still…he hoped the shock absorbers were still good after 200 years.

The sound of the minigun firing repeatedly assuaged his fears. He watched light flare beneath the door as on the other side, Preston gave his new buddy some backup with the laser musket, the almost musical noise of the fusion cell firing alongside the clatter of the minigun. Part of the way through, he heard the roar of a Deathclaw, and the blood drained from his face. The shouts and screams of Raiders joined the noises, and the survivors of Quincy huddled together, shoulders stiff.

It was a long while later that Preston finally came back inside, breathing heavily. Sturges looked at him questioningly, and the Minuteman shot him a look of relief that the mechanic hadn’t seen on his friend since Hollis’ group first showed up in Quincy to protect the town. It left a warm sensation of hope in Sturges’ chest.

The Vault Dweller showed up in the lobby of the museum as they were helping Mama Murphy onto the bench, and after Marcy ran her mouth, the woman in the suit started following them to Sanctuary. She was silent the entire way, until they reached Red Rocket.

“Looks like my home away from home,” Sturges announced as they passed it by.

“You’ll have to share it with Dogmeat,” she suddenly said, and he grinned.

“He’s mighty fine company. Hope he doesn’t mind a lodger.”

“Or two,” she agreed. “I’ll be with you guys in a second.”

He watched her veer away towards the old gas station, and then the faint clank and hiss of power armour being removed. They were heading over the bridge when she re-joined them, flushed from her recent fight. The Vault suit was unzipped a little, and Sturges…well, he was a gentleman, sure, but he was a fella too, and the tiny hint of revealed skin was nice to see. He quickly averted his eyes and tried to listen to Preston talking about the history of the place. It wasn’t perfect, sure, but with a bit of fixing up, it could become home. She seemed real familiar with it too.

They built a few beds in the closest houses and spent the night in Sanctuary, a little uncomfortable but protected for the first time in a long while. Sturges woke up and turned over in the middle of the night to see her sitting in the front room of the house opposite, lips absent-mindedly around a bottle of Nuka Cola, and admired the deep red of her lipstick. It looked good on her.

Wait, what the hell had she meant by a lodger ‘or two?’

 

* * *

 

The feeling of safety kept them sleeping longer than they usually dared, and it was only the sound of heavy objects being shifted that eventually woke them. By the time they’d all swapped around rooms enough to freshen up so that nobody saw each other in places they didn’t wanna, the clattering sound had been replaced by hammering and blowtorches. Sturges found an old tin of coffee in the kitchen, cleaned up a mug as best he could, and wandered out of the house with the hot beverage in hand to see the Vault Dweller crouching on the opposite pavement with her back to them, the strap of a mask circling her head. She was welding metal plates onto her house, scavenged from the three ruined houses he’d noticed the previous evening. A pair of makeshift curtains, cut and stitched from raider longjohns, now covered her bedroom window, and the 111 gleamed golden in the morning sunshine as she slowly fixed the holes.

Sturges’ eyes wandered slowly down her back until he reached the blue of her ass. He calculated the time she’d take to fix the missing plates by the current speed of her work, and as he looked towards the piles of metal plates stacked into neat columns, he realised she’d fetched her power armour from the gas station. It was slumped in the station behind him. And by the position of the sun, it was about 10:30 in the morning. He had to hand it to her, she was an organised girl. Lady.

Woman. Definitely a woman. The way Sturges’ eyes admired the bright cobalt of her rear confirmed as much. He felt like a letch but god, he couldn’t help himself.

The Vaultie – he still didn’t know her name – was done plating up by lunchtime. He tinkered around with small projects to keep him outside, watching her cook radroach on a small pot, constantly fussed around by the Mister Handy that seemed to follow her around. He wondered if the other Vault Dwellers were waiting inside the Vault for her to return. Mama Murphy wandered over and sat down with her. The sound of their chattering reached his ears as he finally located a blowtorch and a welding mask, and started to fix up the house he’d stayed in overnight.

The rest of the day followed the same vein. Sturges and the Vaultie worked around each other, taking spare metal plates to patch up holes. They’d fixed four of the houses by the time darkness fell, including building some rudimentary furniture. The Longs had taken a house for themselves, but they returned for dinner, and the group ate together, exchanging small talk.

“Vault 111,” Preston finally began. “Are there any more of you?”

“Just me,” she said with a sad smile. “The sole survivor of the Vault experiment.”

“Experiment?”

“If the other Vaults are anything like mine, they were designed to…test humanity, I suppose. Ours was the effects of Cryofreeze over long periods of time.”

“Cryofreeze?” Preston repeated, eyes widening. “Wait…how long for?”

“About 210 years,” she replied.

“You’re Pre-War?” Sturges managed, dropping his fork.

“I guess,” she agreed. “If that’s what the bombs were.”

“And you saw the bombs?”

She gestured to her house with a thumb.

“Sure. Got evacuated when the first ones hit the East Coast. They got us into the Vault just as the bomb went off down south.”

“Christ,” Sturges breathed. “So what was it like? Before the bombs?”

“Picture less dirt and shit everywhere,” she said calmly. “And the museum had a floor.”

The mechanic laughed, and her lips twitched into a soft smile. They finished their meal in relative quiet. Preston left to do his rounds whilst Mama Murphy took a nap. Sturges lit up a cigarette and inhaled deeply, watching her drinking her Nuka Cola. The red lipstick was less obvious today – perhaps she’d forgone it. Still, the curve of her lips around the bottle was as interesting now as it had been yesterday.

“You know, I never asked your name,” he finally said, tapping the ash from his cigarette into a nearby ashtray he’d scavenged. Her blue eyes flicked up to his and she smiled. It was that soft one again.

“It’s Nora,” she replied. “Nora Pendleton. And you were…Sturges, right?”

“That’s right,” he agreed. He suddenly caught the flash of gold on her left hand and remembered Old World traditions about marriage involving rings. And then remembered that she’d said she was the only survivor of the Vault.

“You look like you want to ask questions, Sturges,” she murmured.

“And a gentleman don’t pry into places that makes a lady sad,” he told her. Her brows raised. “Wedding ring, but you’re alone. I’m guessing…I’m guessing your fella didn’t make it out the Vault?”

“Somebody killed him,” she said softly. “Some asshole with a giant scar and an itchy trigger finger. They took my baby too.”

“Goddamn,” Sturges swore. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she sighed, and put down the Nuka Cola. “Look, I should…I’m gonna turn in. Still got more houses to fix up tomorrow, right?”

“Jesus, Nora, I’m sorry,” he said again. “I shouldn’t have…”

She stood, and he stood with her, awkwardly fiddling with the belt on his faded coveralls. To his surprise, she reached out and squeezed his shoulder.

“Hey,” she said gently. “It’s okay.”

Still, he felt like an asshole as he watched her leave the house and return to her own residence.


	2. Chapter 2

Marcy was a little less cranky the next day. That was good, because Sturges didn’t wanna hear another remark out of her mouth until he could figure out a way to apologise to Nora properly. He’d figured she was still asleep when everyone else got up in the morning, but when her robot didn’t appear in the window, his brow furrowed.

“Hey Preston,” he called as the Minuteman passed. “Is our Vault friend still here?”

“Nora? No, she agreed to go help Tenpines. Why?”

“I kind…I upset her last night. She didn’t seem to hold a grudge but…I still feel bad,” Sturges admitted, running a hand through his hair and slicking back the thick black mass.

“Well, it ain’t far,” Preston said fairly. “She should be back within a few days. She left her power armour in the dock.”

Sturges’ eyes flicked to the T-45 hanging up in the station, and then looked back to Preston.

“Thanks.”

“How’d you upset her?” Preston asked quietly, approaching.

“Asked some questions about her Vault,” Sturges replied. “She had a family. Husband and child. I…really put my foot in my mouth.”

“Oh, damn,” Preston swore.

“Yeah,” the mechanic agreed.

“Best thing you can do is keep on repairing this place,” Preston finally said. “We haven’t had a friend like this in a while.”

“I ain’t fuckin’ this up for you,” Sturges promised. “She’s like some kinda guardian angel, huh?”

“Sure is,” Preston agreed. “Got us out of the tight spot I dug us into.”

“Hey now,” Sturges warned. “Don’t you go blamin’ yourself. Got no one to blame but raiders, ghouls and Gunners. You’ve been with us as long as you could, Preston. You’ve had a gun covering our asses the whole time.”

“It hasn’t been good enough!” Preston barked, slumping down onto a nearby chair. “If you’d had Nora protecting you instead of me-”

Sturges gripped his friend’s arm firmly. “Stop,” he said softly. “You stop that. We ain’t changin’ the past by agonisin’ over it. Nora wasn’t there to help us. She was probably still in that Vault. Nothin’ she coulda done. And you’ve been there for us the whole time. That was all we coulda asked.”

“I trust her,” Preston finally said. “To protect us. Protect you guys. You didn’t see her fighting. She knew what she was doing.”

“What do you mean?” Sturges asked.

“I’m gonna make her the General,” Preston told him. “If she’ll let me.”

“Jesus.”

“I know, Sturges,” Preston sighed. “You probably think I’m throwing everything I have on a risk. But…I ain’t General material.”

“You’ve done good by us, Preston,” Sturges assured him. “But nobody was gonna ask you to lead if you ain’t ready. It’s okay, buddy.”

“Thanks,” Preston croaked. Sturges went inside and grabbed a Nuka Cola out of his satchel. He handed it to the Minuteman.

“Well, I’m gonna get back to work,” Sturges began. “You need anything, just holler."

 

* * *

 

When Preston left to do his rounds, Sturges stopped tinkering with the house, and turned to the vacant power armour in its station. He pulled up his welding mask, stooping down to look at the shock absorbers. Yep, they needed fiddling with. He pulled out his screwdriver and a few screws, tightening them so that they wouldn’t fall off, and tested the plates. They could use re-securing too. In fact, Nora was goddamn lucky this suit had even held up, specially against a Deathclaw. Christ, it was falling to pieces. He thanked the heavens that he’d fallen in with the Atom Cats for a bit back in Quincy, and examined some of the wear on the left arm. Yep. All in need of a repair. And a good coat of paint.

“Hey, Sturges!” Marcy yelled. He growled softly.

“Yeah?” he finally called back.

“Some of the plates are still missing from the house!”

Christ. He got to his feet, and brushed himself off.

“Sorry darlin’,” he said to the power armour, “looks like I’ll have to leave you for a moment.”

He didn’t get the chance to get back to the power armour until the light was too dim for any real work, and he cursed the work Marcy had given him for distracting him. Still, he gave it a quick assessment of the most needy places, and made a list that he pinned to the workbench. He went to bed a few hours later.

He got up early and was busy fixing the armour the next morning, his small space filled with noises so he couldn’t be distracted by the Longs or Mama Murphy. Preston seemed happy to leave him be, and by the time he got hungry enough to get lunch, he’d made a good start on fixing the legs. Both the shock absorbers were now fine-tuned and cleaned. He’d removed every last plate and cleaned the dirt and rust from the frame, an act that had left him covered in dirt too. After stacking the metal in neat, correct piles so he didn’t confuse left for right, he wiped his hands clean on his coveralls and located a large bucket. He took water from the river and hauled it back to the campfire, placing it to boil and tossing in a Rad-X pill. Whilst the water heated, he examined the leg plates again.

What colour should he paint the metal?

He still wasn’t sure by the time the water was heated, and he pulled the bucket off the fire, putting it down on the carport and removing his mask, placing it on a small table nearby. He shrugged his coveralls off his shoulders, and pulled his ratty t shirt over his head, tossing it aside and finding a clean cloth. He retrieved a bar of soap from his back pocket and dipped the cloth in the hot water, lathering it up with the soap before he began cleaning the muck off his skin. He hadn’t had this opportunity in a while, and the dirt that clung to him was thick enough to make a whole layer of its own. Christ. He was disgusting.

It took him almost twenty minutes to clean himself up, and that was without even going near his legs. He tossed out the river water and filled up a slightly smaller bucket, heating that up as he heard Preston calling to someone in recognition. A minute or two later, the Minuteman was walking up the road with Nora at his left. They were talking gently. Sturges could hear him telling her about Quincy. He was wiping his skin dry with another cloth when he realised the talking had stopped, and the back of his neck prickled that way it did when he was being watched. He turned his head slightly, and Christ, there she was, pretending she was busy petting Dogmeat as her eyes roamed him. Sturges bridled a little and turned his body to face her. She looked away quickly.

He pulled the bucket of heated water from the fire and tested it with an elbow. The moment he turned his head he could feel her watching him. The mechanic hefted the bucket up, his eyes flicking to hers, and then he bent down and poured some of the water over his head. He soaped it, cleaning the dirt from the thick black mess, looking at her just in time to catch her mouth open, eyes wide. Blood had flushed her face, almost hiding the smattering of freckles covering her nose and cheeks. He closed his eyes to finish cleaning his hair, then washed his hands of the soap, and poured the rest of the bucket over him. He straightened up, shaking the water off like a dog, and reached for the cloth again, wiping the liquid off his skin.

When he looked again, she was biting her lip, and he pulled a comb out his back pocket to scrape his hair back into its old style, fluffing it up. Her front door slammed shut, and Sturges sucked in a breath. Had he gone too far?

He felt better after cleaning up, like he was a human being again, and he kept on at her armour, though his eyes flitted every so often to the closed orange door of her house. The curtains were drawn and he couldn’t see her. Where the hell was she?

The answer became clear when she appeared as the sun was setting, her own skin covered in dirt, piles of dirty cloth and leaves in her arms. She tossed them into an old bathtub outside the house and accepted a canister of clean water her robot gave her. Sturges watched her find a clean cloth, unzipping a little of her Vault suit, and pour the water onto it, cleaning herself off. When the wet rag rubbed over her sternum he pressed against the wall behind him and inhaled sharply, feeling himself strain at his coveralls. She looked up at him and he swallowed a moan.

Christ.


	3. Chapter 3

Sturges woke up the next morning to find that the power armour had been taken, and Nora was gone.

“Preston,” he began, but the Minuteman shot him a small…smile? Smirk? What was that expression anyway?

“She took it to Red Rocket,” Garvey told him. “Something about it being quieter there.”

“How’m I supposed to work on it then?” Sturges muttered. Preston burst out laughing. Sturges always felt like Preston’s laugh could brighten the day, but right now, the tips of his ears reddened, and he got the feeling the Minuteman was laughing at him. Not cruelly but…like he was missing something.

“Maybe she wanted to do it herself,” Preston managed, grinning. “Hey, if you’re that determined, why not go over and ask her? Ain’t exactly far away.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“You still worried you upset her, huh?” Preston asked gently.

“Christ, Garvey, she lost her family, I had to open my goddamn mouth and start asking, didn’t I?” Sturges sighed.

“Look, Sturges, if this is really weighing on you, get your ass over to Red Rocket and keep on working,” the other man said, gesturing with his head. “We’re good for now.”

“You sure?”

“Go on.”

The mechanic headed down the road and over the bridge, kicking a stone as he went, twisting his fingers around nervously. Shit, the Vault Dweller had been nothing short of dirty yesterday when she was watching him, but if she was still at Red Rocket, he wasn’t sure what he was going to say, and if he put his foot in it again he was going to throw in the goddamn towel. The thought of being alone with her made him feel warm.

The shutter of the workshop was open as he approached, and he could see the bare frame hanging in the station, the armour pieces neatly piled on a nearby workbench. There was a toolbox and a bunch of oil lamps gathered in a corner, but the place seemed empty, and he wandered in and had a look around. There were a few workbenches for modifying armour and weapons, a bed in a back room, and a radio in the workshop. The whole place was spotless, swept clean, with a proper door to the bedroom. Somebody could live here if they wanted.

He swallowed. Was she…booting him out of Sanctuary? She was the General now…

Christ.

He quickly got back to the power armour to distract himself, noticing a few cans of paint and adhesive stacked neatly onto shelves. He got to work cleaning the rest of the armour plates, thankful for the water pump she’d installed outside. Once they were clean, he dried them off, and buffed them as best he could with the limited materials. In a few hours, they were all done, and he began considering modifications. Did he have enough scrap and wires for anything like that?

He realised his arms were caked in dirt and he located some soap, grabbing a cloth and going to the pump to clean up. The muck ran off his skin easily enough after he scrubbed a little, and he straightened up, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

A soft noise caught his ear, and he looked up to see Nora walking towards him, Dogmeat on her heels. Warmth and worry flushed through him in equal measure.

“Hey Sturges,” she called softly.

“Hey, General,” he began. Her eyes flicked to his wet arms and he hurriedly dried them off.

“How do you like your workshop?” she asked.

“It’s mine?” he said, intrigued.

“Well…it’s in case Sanctuary got…busy or something,” she told him, tucking some of her fringe behind her ear. “A kind of…home away from home, I guess.”

“So…you ain’t kicking me out,” he chuckled.

“Of course not!” she protested. “Sturges…is this about the other night? You didn’t do anything wrong, you know.”

“I know, it’s just…you did so much for us in such a short time, I felt like an ass for rockin’ the boat and asking all those questions.”

She reached out and squeezed his arm, and Sturges’ eyes flicked to the contact, marvelling at the warmth of her hand.

“Asking about me wasn’t rocking the boat,” she assured him. “Besides, you weren’t doing it to be mean. And, how can I be mad at you when you’re working on that armour for me?”

“Anything else that stopped you bein’ mad?”

It was out before he could stop it, and he watched her face flush, her eyes lighting up. Sturges found himself struck by them.

“I…I should probably get back to Sanctuary, Preston…you know, he worries,” she managed, suddenly breathless, and tore her hand away. He watched her race off into the distance, and suddenly Sturges knew what he was going to paint the armour in.

Minuteman Blue.

It matched her eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

He’d spent the morning making chairs and when he got a spare moment, he made his way back to Red Rocket. The shutter was up, and he could see a figure in blue leaning over the weapon bench, and as he got closer he saw pieces of a disassembled gun lying on the metal top.

And her vault suit was stripped down to the waist.

It would be tempting to slip in behind her and run his fingers over the smooth, dark bare skin to see if she made some nice little noises, but the General liked to blush somethin’ fierce and he didn’t want to embarrass her. He started whistling a tune, and watched her head swivel around before she hurriedly got herself back into her suit. Well, fair was fair – she’d seen him with his shirt off and now he’d seen the pretty, soft expanse of her back.

“Howdy, General,” he called, watching a flush spread across her face. He resisted the urge to grin.

“Hey Sturges,” she stammered, turning back to her gun.

“Not up in Sanctuary?” he asked. She shook her head.

“Not today. I swear Marcy Long is the least thankful person in the world,” she sighed, beginning to pick through the gun parts.

“Yeah, Marcy ain’t one for asking help off people,” he agreed. “Even back in Quincy, she never could come to the workshop herself. Always got Jun to do it. And now…well, guess she’s worried you’re gonna try and cash in the debt we owe you or somethin’.”

“Christ,” Nora muttered, examining the scope from her rifle. She threw it down and leaned over the bench. Sturges tried to ignore her ass jutting out from where she stood.

“Don’t take it personal. Some of us have known her for years.”

“Yeah, okay.”

There was a moment of silence.

“So, did you decide what colour to paint the power armour yet?” she finally asked.  

“Sure did,” he replied. “Minuteman blue. It uh, matches your eyes.”

He watched the noticeable perk in her posture as he made his way to the station, pulling an empty paint can out from the corner.

“But do you have any blue paint?” she inquired.

“I’ve got some white here for the symbol, and some black to mix up the dark blue, but no blue paint as it currently stands,” he admitted. She smiled.

“Luckily for you, I found some earlier. I left it at Sanctuary. I’ll go get it.”

-

She was back ten minutes later with two cans of blue paint tucked under one arm, and she deposited them on the floor near the station as Sturges pulled out the black paint and the empty can, locating a bottle of adhesive. He started to mix up the armour paint with a stick as Nora leaned back over the workbench and cleaned up the gun parts.

“You know,” he began, “I’m probably puttin’ my foot in my mouth again, but you never struck me as the type to be good with tools.”

She laughed, and he watched her hands work for a moment.

“My father was a mechanic,” she told him. “Sometimes he fixed up power armour for the U.S army. He taught me everything I know. We used to live in Florida. He taught me how to shoot gators when they got too vicious. And…people too. When I was little, where I lived, pretty much anyone from the continent of Asia was held suspect. Not…not badly, but there were a few kids at school who used to ask suspicious around me.”

“I don’t follow,” he admitted, dipping the brush in and starting to paint the dark blue over the first plate.

“Of course. I’m…well, my mom’s family came from India, a couple generations back before me. Used to be a country in Asia, where China is. The US and China fighting each other is what caused this place – the Wasteland – to look like it does. Anyway, for some people, once they found out I was Asian, they asked if I was Chinese, or working with the Chinese.”

“So what did you do?” he asked, pausing to examine the coat.

“I’d show them a map of the continent of Asia,” came the reply. “Firmly. When I was younger…shit, I used to just bash heads in yelling loudly in my first language.”

“How many do you speak?” he asked with a chuckle. She paused to think, and he watched her face turn thoughtful. It was quite cute.

“Uh…Sanskrit’s my first language, then Hindi and Punjabi, English…had to learn Spanish, there were a lot of Hispanic kids at school with me. Then when I moved to Boston, you had to get conversational in Italian, especially in the skeevy parts of town. And when I became a lawyer, I had to learn gutter Irish because Irish mobsters don’t tend to talk to lawyers if we don’t speak at least a little of their language. I think…seven?”

“Jesus,” he swore, turning round to look at her. “How the hell?”

“It’s easier to learn when you’re young,” she told him.

“Is there anything you can’t do?” he asked with a small smile.

“A few things,” she assured him. “What about you? How’d you come to work with power armour?”

“There’s this old garage near Quincy, couple of kids moved in one day and started a gang. Not a bad gang, mind you. Called themselves ‘the Atom Cats’. They got these suits of power armour, and I managed to make friends with ‘em. They let me work on a few suits. Zeke owes me for some of the work.” His brows furrowed. “Hope they’re still okay. After the Gunners took over…”

“They sound resourceful,” she assured him.

“Hope so.”

The two of them fell silent, and Sturges went back to work as the sound of her reassembling the gun met his ears, coupled with the soft sweep of the brush over the metal. He finished the first coat on the leg plates, and straightened up to start on the left arm. The back of his neck began to prickle. He turned to see Nora watching him, her eyes fixed on what would have been his back muscles, and a brow rose.

“You stare a helluva lot, General,” Sturges commented slowly, putting down the brush.

“Sorry,” she murmured, turning back to the workbench. Her hands started to fiddle with the assembled gun and he bit back a smirk. “Just…um…”

“Look, I saw you watchin’ me the other day,” he began. “And I know you saw ‘cus you came out later on and gave a little show of your own. So…what bit did you like best?”

She dropped the gun. Sturges pulled off his gloves and tossed them onto the armour bench, taking a step towards her. She didn’t back away, even when he pulled the welding mask off his neck and put it with the gloves. He watched her tuck her lip between her teeth, colour slowly climbing her face as she backed herself against the workshop. He pressed a hand against the metal counter and leaned towards her. She retreated but only slightly, and his eyes darted to her chest to watch her breathing increase slowly before he gazed into her eyes.

“Atom Cat got your tongue?” he joked softly, trapping her with his arms.

“Yeah,” she breathed, sitting a little heavily on the metal top as Sturges leaned further forward. Her thigh grazed his hip gently, and he raised a bold hand to grip it, hearing the tiny hitch of breath as he did so. Her hand moved to his stomach, not pressing but skimming, running up the coveralls to his shoulder.

“Since I work for the Minutemen,” Sturges began, “do I gotta ask permission for this kind of thing first?”

“What do you mean?” she murmured, her eyes dropping to his lips.

“I’m just askin’ if I can kiss you now, General,” he said.

“Yes,” she whispered.


	5. Chapter 5

“Yes,” she whispered.

That was all he needed. Sturges surged forward, wrapping his arms around her waist and shoulders as his lips devoured hers, crushing her soft body to his as her arms slid up his back, hands openly stroking over his back and shoulder muscles, moaning beautifully as he kissed her. Her thighs wrapped around his waist, pulling his hips against hers as they made out.

“H-hold on!” she gasped, pulling back.

“Shit,” he breathed. “What’s wrong?”

“The shutter,” she told him.

“Christ, yeah.”

Reluctantly he disentangled himself from her, and darted across the workshop to close the shutter. The automated system kicked in and began to lower it, and Sturges hurried back over to her, reaching for the zip on her Vault suit. He paused, watching her struggle for breath.

“Is it…is it okay if I…”

She kissed him softly, grasping his wrist and pulling. He heard the zip descending, and growled against her mouth, pulling it down to her stomach and exposing her soft body. His hand immediately slid beneath the cobalt blue fabric and she sighed happily at the touch on her skin.

He left her mouth and chuckled softly at the whine she made when he did so, sliding her suit over her shoulders so that he could get to her neck, curling his tongue up the vein. She arched, tilting to give him better access, and cried out when he bit down softly. Her fingers cupped the back of his head, pressing his lips and tongue firmly against her as she looped her legs round him again. Her skin was clean and soft, and he began to work her suit down her body, stroking it in wonder as she squirmed. He sucked on her neck, hard, and her fingers clenched into fists, a high pitched keen escaping her mouth. What a lovely noise. He did it again, and she sucked in a breath, her lips by his ear. Her fingers grasped the straps of his coveralls and pulled them over his shoulders, fingertips skimming over the broad muscle lightly before they moved to his back, pushing the blue cloth down to his belt. Sturges pulled back momentarily, long enough for the Vault Dweller to get his belt open and start easing it off him. The mechanic shot her a grin and kissed her again, capturing the moan of delight she let out as he worked himself free of the belt and let the coveralls drop down to his hipbones.

Nora gripped the hem of his old white t shirt and pulled up, and Sturges grasped the back of it and pulled, sliding it over his arms as her fingers followed the material to grasp his biceps firmly, her hands admiring his physique. He pressed her hard against the bench and dragged her suit down to her waist, kissing down her neck to her sternum and dragging his tongue wetly over the soft swell of her breast. His hand slid up her back to the clasp of her bra, and he heard a gasp of shock when he popped the clasp with one hand, hooking beneath the thin straps and pulling down. Nora pressed herself against him as she was exposed, closing her eyes, and Sturges kissed her firmly before dropping his head to her breast. A weak mewl left her mouth as he sucked on a nipple, his arm holding her firmly as she writhed, her fingers gripping his hair tightly. She seemed lost for words, speech dying in her throat as he groped her other breast with a free hand, his tongue circling the nub of flesh and finally forcing a cry from her.

Sturges pulled away to look at her, his eyes widening. She was near prostrate against the back of the bench, her face flushed and eyes sparkling, chest heaving as she breathed in heavily. Christ, he could have died happy with that image in his mind. The damp peaks of her chest pressed against his as he leaned down to kiss her again, lifting her effortlessly to work her suit down to her knees. Her lips trembled on his as he dragged his nails softly over her stomach, and he stifled her giggle, grasping the waistband of her knickers with one finger and raising her just enough to slide them down with her vault suit.

“Doin’ okay, General?” he asked softly, stroking the insides of her thighs. She let out a quiet sob of pleasure and squeezed her eyes shut.

“Yeah,” she choked out. “Sturges, please…”

He rotated his hand, and slid it between her legs, a single finger circling her entrance briefly before pressing slowly inside her. Her back arched spectacularly as it went in to the knuckle, and he started to stroke repeatedly. He hooked an arm under her thigh and lifted her, dipping his head to the other breast and sucking once more. She cried out in pleasure as her fingers carded into his hair, holding him gently against her and moaning when he worked another finger into her. She was slick, ready, but Sturges wanted to make her feel good, and he started to curl his fingers, enjoying the sounds she made. Goddamn, the way she was whimpering his name…

He pressed his thumb against her clit, working his hand in and out of her, watching how her hips thrust into his touch, and he rolled the sensitive bud beneath the digit. Her eyes screwed tightly shut, mouth dropping open, keening helplessly as Sturges worked her over. He kept suckling on her breast, pressing hard against a spot on her walls. She was almost struggling now, locking tightly around him.

He drew his head away and pressed kisses against her neck, tongue trailing over her jaw before he gently bit the flesh. She pulled his hair and he scratched her back, hearing her stutter as she clenched around his fingers. Their mouths met again, and Sturges moaned as she bit his lower lip, riding out her orgasm slowly. A few moments later, he slid his fingers out and she slumped against the bench, panting, as he tasted his fingers, before he wiped them clean on his coveralls. As tempting as it would be to fuck her against the workbench, Sturges had another place in mind. He picked her up easily, holding her tightly as he moved them out of the workshop and into the bedroom, laying her down on the bed and kneeling in front of her as he unlaced her boots quick and nimbly, sliding them off her feet before he finally stripped the rest of the Vault suit off her body. As he hurried out the rest of his gear she sat up, posing beautifully as she unpinned her hair and placed the bobby pins on the table. Sturges paused to watch her do it, eyes fixed on the dark brown waves that flooded her shoulders and curved around her breasts.

“Sturges,” she murmured.

“Right,” he muttered, returning to stripping as she chuckled softly. “What can I say, General? You got some real hypnotic qualities.”

“I’ll…I’ll remember that,” she began, laying back on her elbows as he pushed his boxers down over his thighs. Her eyes flared briefly as she looked at him, and Sturges felt warm pride in his chest. He knelt over her, strong hands gripping her hips as they kissed again, her thigh curling around his waist. His length was pressed against her mound, rubbing gently, but the soft touches got her whimpering, and she slid her arms around his back and pulled him closer, spreading her thighs. He dragged her hips against him and pressed inside her, burying his head in her neck and groaning. How long had it been since he’d…? He couldn’t remember. She was soft, hot and slick, and she made a beautiful sound when he pushed in to the hilt. He started thrusting, holding her open as he kissed her, feeling the sting of her nails on his back and hissing. Nora’s head fell back, and he sat up just a little, enough to angle his hips differently, and the woman beneath him switched goddamn languages.

He grasped her around the waist and yanked her up to him, as the General wrapped her arms around his neck and started to roll her hips. Sturges’ eyes disappeared into his head as they kissed deeply, her fingers running through his hair. It was a soft, wonderful motion that had him groaning as they fucked, moving together frantically. She was whimpering words into his ear, strange ones he’d never heard into his life, his own name in a different accent, her lips on his neck briefly before Sturges pushed her down and rolled onto his side, their kisses filled with nipping teeth and flicks of the tongue. He briefly sucked on a nipple and found his head crushed against her chest, closing his eyes as he licked. Her rolling hips became much more urgent and Sturges took her harder, enjoying her weak cries.

She curled herself around him, hands palming every inch of him she could reach, touches soft on his skin. The spice of her sweat filled his head, back bowing as he reached between them, two fingers pressing against her nub. She lost her breath for a moment, and then he started to rub slowly, and she lost her composure, still gasping words in one of her many languages before she nipped his neck harshly and squeezed him tightly. Sturges choked out a moan as he kept going, kept pressing his fingers until she was squirming, his own climax not far off. Nora kept writhing against him, one hand grasping hold of his ass and pulling their hips close together. He deepened his thrusts and watched her lose herself again, pushing her over the edge as her legs wrapped tightly around him. She pulled back her head to fix him with a glassy eyed gaze and kissed him softly. Sturges grunted, holding her close as he felt himself twitch.

“Abhika,” she breathed, and devoured his mouth, moaning softly. He went to pull out as he felt the tension growing, the pleasure mounting, and she kept him buried in her as he shouted helplessly into her mouth and climaxed, his breathing frantic.

“Goddamn, General,” he gasped.

“Nora,” she whispered, pressing their lips together gently. “I think…I think after this you…you can call me Nora.”

He chuckled breathlessly, enjoying the sensation of her soft body pressed against him. She kissed his collarbone as he stroked slightly damp fingers through her hair, her leg finally uncurling from his waist as he slipped out of her. She sighed gently at the feeling, closing her eyes. He stroked hair out of her eyes, kissing her forehead as they cuddled.

“What’s that word mean?” he finally asked.

“Hmm?” she murmured, stroking patterns into his sweaty skin.

“Ab- I can’t say it,” he said. “The one you said before you kissed me just now. You know, before I, uh…”

“You…uh…popped in the uh…fusion core,” she chuckled softly, nuzzling his chin. Sturges snorted.

“Eloquent as hell, General. Impressive.”

“Maybe I’ll tell you later,” she said softly, kissing his collarbone.

“That’s mean as hell,” he complained half-heartedly, playing with her hair. She let out gentle sounds of enjoyment as he did so, smirking good naturedly.

 “I’m the General, I like to run a tight ship.”

“Among other things,” the mechanic muttered. “C’mon. Not everyone speaks seven languages, Nora.”

“It was Sanskrit,” she told him. “Mother tongue. It’s nothing insulting, don’t worry.”

“I wasn’t until you told me not to be,” he said, inhaling the scent of her. “C’mon, tell me!”

“No,” she said. Sturges hooked his hands around her ribs and began to tickle her. The woman almost fell off the bed in surprise, giggling madly. “Sturges!-”

“You wanna tell me,” he cajoled. “C’mon, Nora. Tell me!”

It took almost a full minute of pinning her to the sheets and torturing her like that before she finally gasped for mercy and relented. He allowed her to catch her breath, wrapping her protectively in his arms.

“It…It means…it means lover,” she eventually murmured, tucking her head beneath his chin.

“You shy about sayin’ that in a language I could understand?” he asked. She murmured something else in that alien tongue and he raised a brow. “Christ, you are shy about sayin’ it.”

“Damn right,” she muttered into his neck. “I like you, Sturges. You’re a good guy. You wanna help people. So do I.”

“You worried?”

“Always am.”

He kissed the top of her head, and then tucked a hand beneath her chin, pressing their lips together. Nora moaned, wrapping her arms around him and flicking her tongue over his mouth.

“Don’t be,” he finally said, once he could bear to pull back. She licked her lip. “Awww, c’mon.”

Her fingers skimmed his skin again, and he felt his breathing increase, blood rushing back down south.

“You good for more?” he asked.

“If you are,” she murmured.

“Just uh, a few things I wanna do first, General,” he admitted, and then he was sliding down her body to press his head between her thighs.

-

There were a hell of a lot of pinups left over from before the Great War, but Sturges was pretty sure his was the best one.

Especially once she found the General’s hat and coat, Christ.


End file.
